


Tequila tattoos

by the_wildcard



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Drunk tatoos, M/M, Mention of "my ankles are surely broken!!", gay shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:25:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9273734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wildcard/pseuds/the_wildcard
Summary: "Dennis steps forward, invading Mac's personal space and lifts a finger. 'I could get the ugliest tattoo in the history of the universe, and I would still be more desirable than you could ever hope to be.'Mac leans towards Dennis, 'prove it.'"OR if you prefer, the most sexual tension drunk tatooing has ever seen





	

Dennis' head bobs drunkenly, and for a short moment, Mac thinks he's passed out in the barstool. It wouldn't be the first time, either, because Dennis is a lightweight but doesn't admit it (never admits anything). So he drinks himself into oblivion, to the point where Mac has to practically carry him home, and then complains the next morning about his headache. 

"I didn't even drink that much." He would say but when Mac would ask him what happened that night, Dennis would never have an answer. Maybe that's for the best, considering some of the shit they did drunk. There's no telling what tonight will bring. 

Dennis had started drinking that night after Charlie and Frank had left, and after they'd shooed Dee away. Dennis was angry at her. 

"It isn't fair," he was seething as he pulled out a large bottle of tequila, and began lining up shots for the two of them. "I am the golden god. Me!" Mac narrowed his eyes, waiting for Dennis to continue, like he always does. "Why is her skin tanned and her hair practically sparkling gold?" Dennis' voice comes out dripping anger, but it breaks. Each of the men throw back their shots at the same time.

"She's glowing, and then here I am," he gestures at himself and takes another shot. "Pasty and pale skin, with hair that's graying and, let's be honest, thinning." Mac didn't understand why Dennis was complaining, he looked fantastic, but admitting that would be implying something he'd rather not get into tonight.

 

Less than an hour later, the bottle is almost gone, and there are at least four limes littered along the counters surface. Dennis has spilled salt across the counter, but neither of them care to clean it up. Dee can wipe the counters herself tomorrow. Dennis lifts his head, while simultaneously lifting the bottle of tequila to his mouth.

Mac watches his lips wrap around the bottle, before tearing his gaze away, and reaches for an already full shot on the bar counter. He doesn't need this shit tonight. 

Dennis leans towards Mac, eyes glinting something dangerous, and Mac leans forward too. He's wondering if Dennis is plotting something, because that's what it looks like. But then, when isn't Dennis plotting something sinister?

"You aren't taking the shot right," Dennis hisses, their faces only inches apart. Mac opens his mouth to speak, but closes it just as quickly. He feels like he's experiencing deja vu. "Huh?" 

Dennis pours a shot of tequila carelessly, almost knocking over a stray shot glass. Mac watches him with cautious interest as Dennis licks his own hand, sprinkles salt over it, and then meets Mac's eyes again. "Salt and then drink, remember?" Dennis lifts his hand to Mac's mouth. 

Mac thinks that he must be more wasted than he originally thought because he doesn't think twice about licking the salt off of Dennis' hand where his thumb meets his index finger. The next shot doesn't go down as bitterly as the rest of them had. 

Dennis shoves a lime wedge into Mac's mouth and watches him with a blank look. "Fuck, man, we're getting so old," Dennis sounds tired. Mac grins widely, the lime wedge still covering his teeth.

Dennis smiles. "Fine. I'm getting old. You're still a god damn child." He tries to sound spiteful, but it doesn't work. Mac spits the lime out onto the counter because the juice had begun to sting his cracked lips.

 

"Remember when you thought you broke your ankles?" Mac is laughing, and still giggling when he swallows another shot of alcohol. This time Dennis doesn't press his hand to Mac's lips, or shove fruit in his mouth. Only stares at him in contempt. 

"I did break my ankles, Mac! I've already explained this to you. The rules are different on the mountain." But Mac just keeps laughing. "They're surely broken," he says in a high pitched voice that Dennis assumes is supposed to be an imitation of himself. "My ankles are broken for sure."

"Don't make fun of me, Mac." Mac smirks and nudges Dennis' arm. "I would never make fun of you, Den."

 

"I need you to confess something to me and you can't lie."

Mac braces himself. Dennis is a warm presence in the barstool next to him, but his eyes are cold. They seem to bare into Mac. Mac doesn't want to get into this tonight, not after they were having such a good time. He sighs. 

"Am I your best friend?" Mac lifts his eyebrows in surprise. That was not what he expected Dennis to ask. He smiles and takes a drink of his beer. "Sure, dude. You know that." 

Dennis clenches his jaw, and Mac sees him repressing a smile. "Okay, another thing I need to talk to you about." Mac holds his breath when Dennis extends his hand to Mac. "Why in the world did you ever get these tattoos?" Mac looks down at Dennis' hand, which is tracing the feather tattoo on his bicep. 

"And don't say they're tribal." Mac grins, and smacks Dennis' hand away from his arm. "Whatever, man. You don't know what a good tattoo would look like if you had one yourself. You're probably too scared to get one, anyway." Mac is teasing, but there's a certain extent of truth in his words. Dennis could never commit to something for that long.

"You don't think I could get a tattoo," Dennis asks incredulously, and takes a gulp of Mac's beer. "Nope. You don't wanna ruin your flawless body." Mac takes a long pull of beer. Dennis raises his eyebrows. "You think my body is flawless?" 

Mac laughs. "That isn't what I meant," it doesn't matter. Neither of them will remember this tomorrow. "You think if you got a tattoo then you'd be tainted or impure or whatever the shit." Dennis steps towards Mac, invading his personal space and lifts a finger. "I could get the ugliest tattoo in the history of the universe, and I would still be more desirable than you could ever hope to be." 

Mac leans towards Dennis, "prove it." His voice is low. Dennis doesn't know whether to kiss him or hit him, and so he does neither. Instead, he stands up (almost falls, they don't mention it) and grabs his jacket off the counter. "Come on," Dennis waves his hand to summon Mac. "Huh?" Mac stands and follows Dennis. 

"You can pick the tattoo out." The air outside bites at Mac's skin, and he remembers that it's almost December and he's in a sleeveless T-shirt in Philadelphia. The walk to the nearest tattoo parlor isn't that far, though, and both of the men are surprised to find they're still open. 

 

Dennis is sitting nervously, but Mac gives him credit for actually going through with it. The guy who's tattooing Dennis gave Mac an odd look when he told him his tattoo idea. Dennis still doesn't know what he's about to get. 

"Okay, now Dennis this might hurt. The first tattoo I got I cried a little bit." But when the machine starts up, and the needle is pressed to Dennis' skin, he doesn't even flinch. Maybe it's because he's piss-ass drunk, or maybe it's because the pain doesn't bother him (or he likes it?). 

The tattoo doesn't take long to get. Only about five minutes, and when the needle is pulled away from Dennis' shoulder, he looks relieved. Mac gazes longingly at the machine, wondering if he's ever gonna get another tattoo. He misses the dull pain of the needle and the exileration of getting a tattoo. Maybe the three on his arms, and the shamrock on his upper thigh isn't enough. 

"Hey, should I get another one?" Mac asks. Dennis grins, teeth glinting like knives. 

 

They stumble from the tattoo parlor laughing, and holding onto each other for support. It's odd, neither of them can stand, yet holding onto each other somehow keeps them both up. Maybe that's a metaphor for something, but Mac doesn't dwell. 

Their grips tighten in each other's shirts while walking, they don't even consider where they're going. Instead of going to Dee's apartment, they head back to Paddy's. 

 

"Jesus Christ." Dennis groans after awakening, and peels his cheek from the sticky bar counter. Mac is still passed out on his barstool next to Dennis. There's drool dripping onto the counter, and he's snores quietly, like a puppy. 

"Mac," Dennis shoves the other man's shoulder harshly, and Mac's eyes immediately open. "God damn it," he lifts his head, and grabs his shoulder in pain. "Dude, that really hurt," he winces and rubs his clothed shoulder. He must've put a sweater on sometime last night. Dennis chuckles, and Mac's eyes narrow. 

He wastes no time in shoving Dennis right back, in the same place. Dennis yelps, and recoils. "Shit, what happened last night." Dennis pulls up his shirt sleeve to reveal a bandage taped over his shoulder. Mac's eyes widen in horror, and he does the same. They each have tattoo covers over their shoulders. 

"Fuck, dude," Mac's says in realization. "That's right, we got tattoos last night." They both pause, going through every terrible thing that could be marked permanently on their skin. 

"You first," Mac says. Dennis reluctantly peels away the paper. "What the fuck." His tattoo is just Mac's name. It looks almost like it was written with a pen. Dennis turns to glare at Mac, and points at the tattoo. "What the fuck is this?" Mac shrugs, smiling with pride. The smirk disappears when he realizes what his tattoo probably is. 

When he pulls away the bandage from his own shoulder, neither of them are too surprised to see Dennis' name branded on Mac's skin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Dennis ranting about Dee because, if we're being honest, he must be jealous of her. Kaitlin is perfect.


End file.
